


Chains

by Maiokoe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Aoba Johsai volleyball, Blood, Family Issues, Fluff, Internal Conflict, Koyuhaba, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Some angst, Werewolf AU, cute moments, morality crisis, so many crisises, some violence, warning may be changed in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiokoe/pseuds/Maiokoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hated changing. He hated that he was left alone by his AWOL father, left alone to this fate. </p><p>He hated the beast that would overtake him, turning him into that myth of legend, darkness, and death.</p><p>He hated becoming that creature of nightmares.</p><p>He hated becoming a monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When he reached out a hand to shut off the shrill shrieking of his alarm, he used to other to rub at his eyes. ‘ _It’s too early for this.’_ But he sat up anyway, staring across at his wall for a long moment before he took a deep breath in and let it out. He heard his mother moving around downstairs, heard her move towards the stairs.

“ _I’ll be back late again. Remember to make dinner,”_ was her quiet remark before silence, then the click of the door opening and closing in quick succession. He eased himself out of bed, stretching the muscles that were sore from practice the day before.

But it was one of _those_ days. One of the days he’d hated ever since he turned fourteen. One of the days he should have known about long before, from a father who wasn’t around.

A growl and he stopped himself from throwing his clock across the room, forcing himself to move towards the closet and pull out his uniform. A quick shower (the water bill had been high last month and he blamed himself for that) change, then breakfast. Was there any rice leftover from dinner last night? No, his mother probably used that as a part of her breakfast. Did he have time to make eggs? Probably not.

“Get moving, or you’ll be late again,” he said to no one, the silence of the house his only companion.

* * *

He gazed down at the ball in his hands, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. A moment and it was up in the air. He took one step, another, a running start, and he leaped, slamming the ball over the net and towards the other side of the court, a frown pulling at his lips when it landed out of bounds.

“ _He seems angry…”_

_“Probably just a bad day.”_

He huffed at the whispered voices, glancing form the corner of his eye at a few of the many players of Aoba Johsai’s volleyball club. They weren’t regulars, just some of the extras. The two blinked at him before turning away, blushing at being caught.

He turned away, picking another ball form the cart and tossing it experimentally. He took a breath in, holding it, then releasing it the same moment he tossed it up in the air, eyes watching it intently as he stepped up, leaping to smack it down, landing in this time.

A smile curled on his lips, marking the tally in his head. Number fifteen of twenty. Good.

“Hey hey,” Oikawa waved from across the court. He gazed back at him. “Group practice?”

“Serving practice,” he responded. Their captain must have noticed the tense set to his jaw, saw how his hands were curled into fists. He said no more and returned to smile at the few players around him.

Some days, he felt worse than he looked. On those days, he didn’t want to drag himself to practice, just wanted to go run through the woods. But he forced himself to go, to get changed. He was part of the team, after-all, and whatever crap he was going through didn’t need to interfere with the team.

And with that thought, and the dark ones crawling up about a father who wasn’t there and left him to this curse alone, he threw another ball up, glowering at it and slamming it down hard. He heard it hit the other side, watching as it nearly made a dent form the force he put into it, his anger fueling him now.

Watched as it bounced up, arching beautifully before falling and rolling away.

He’d landed hard and he knew he was breathing heavy from the force, but he didn’t expect the concerned looks through his way.

Oikawa didn’t look pleased, but when did he ever? “Something wrong?” He was closer now, and making his way even nearer.

“Fine.”

His captain paused a few feet away, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “Oh?” He gave a curt nod.

“Just dealing with some stuff is all.”

Oikawa’s smile was fake and he waved his hands. “Well, it’s been a good day! Why don’t we end early?” There was agreement heard throughout the gym and he made to do his share of cleaning when his captain’s hand rested heavily on his shoulder. “Looks like you need to work on some things. I’ll let you off the hook this time, but I expect you at your best tomorrow,” the brunet warned, all smiles and laughter gone from his eyes.

“It won’t happen again.” Oikawa seemed pleased with his answer and let go, smacking his back almost painfully.

“Nice serves, by the way. Didn’t know you had it in you!” He managed a smile—more of a grimace than anything—and stepped away, intent on changing and booking it out of there for the woods. His mother wouldn’t mind, she was never home any way, and he needed somewhere quiet to think. He didn’t want to snap at anyone again and only being isolated could help him clear his head.

That, and he felt the change pulling at him, the aggression crawling up his throat and begging him to shift, to run wild and free, to run, _to kill…_

He shuddered, pulling away from his thoughts and tugging his practice gear over his head, changing quickly.    

No. He refused to give into that dark part. He refused to submit to that part that whispered to him and promised him freedom. That wasn’t freedom, just another set of chains. Giving in meant losing himself and he was quite proud of what he’d become, thank you.

He stuffed everything in a bag, hurrying out of the clubroom, hearing some voices laughing and drawing near. Leaping down the steps, he bolted for the school gates, running towards the safety the wild around them provided.

Growing up with a mother whose husband left when he was a child was hard. While the other kids had both—few lost one to an accident or illness—he stuck it out, holding his head up. It was nothing to be ashamed of, that his mother worked and wasn’t a housewife. It was nothing to be ashamed of that his mother didn’t have time to gossip with the other women, too busy providing for the both of them.

He had nothing to be ashamed of.

_He was nothing to be ashamed of._

But it was so clear to him, how it was for his mother. He remembered the pitying looks from the other mothers when she came running to pick him up from school, out of breath from her latest shift at the hospital and hurrying him home to get ready for her next one at the one across town.

_Contempt. Disdain. Arrogance._

That they felt superior to her, that they were somehow better, just because their husbands hadn’t left them all alone in the world with a monster for a son. Not that they knew about that.

But his mother did. She bore the scars to prove his first change, slashes across her shoulder and onto her collar, wide scars she kept hidden under blouses. He could never apologize enough for hurting her like that, could never begin to make it up to her, but she only shrugged, like it was nothing.

But he remembered the blood, its sharp smell, cold and metallic. He remembering how it stained the rug and seeped into the wood beneath. They threw out the rug and he remembered scrubbing at that stain for days, the bleach a bad smell in his throat and his eyes watering from the memory. He remembered her coming home and pulling him away from that stain every night for the next three days, trying desperately to erase all evidence of what he’d done, but knowing it would never work—his mother still bore those marks.

He took a deep breath in, taking in the wilderness spread out just before him. Dirt and trees and _life_ thrummed just ahead. Where he could be free.

He tilted his head back, gazing up at the darkened sky and the moon taking up so much of it. The stars were just specks in the inky blackness, little pinpricks of light. It’d be a pretty sight, if it didn’t bring out the monster in him.

If he didn’t change with its coming.

Another deep, shuddering breath, and his back was curling, hunching forward, before snapping back, spine straight and the jolt painful. He could already hearing the crackling of bone as they grew and elongated under his skin, transforming him into that monster of legend, the one his father passed onto him without explaining, without sticking around. The one his father left his innocent mother to deal with and protect.

He dropped his bag, letting it hit the dirt before he could destroy it in the change. Come dawn, he’d need the clothes in one piece to travel back home and catch a few hours of sleep before getting ready for the next day of his own personal hell that school brought.

He didn’t look forward to it.

Another jolt and he lurched forward, huffing at the pain of bones breaking and reforming, stronger, harder, larger. He was on the ground now, curled on his side as he twitched, nearly sobbing at the pain every change brought on. A whine left his lips, a whimper that was more beast than man.

A testament to the creature he was becoming.

Another snap sent him arching his spine, snarling as his limbs grew, skin breaking and bleeding in the moonlight, cracks dancing up his body, turning him ever closer to that final form of a monster.

You’d think, at this point, he’d be used to it. The pain. Every month, for almost two years. Twenty-one times he’s shifted. Twenty-one times he’s changed into a monster.

Another whine, another full-body shudder. Another snap, the pain grounding him but at the same time sending him far away, into his mind where he could just get on with it, get on with the change and just _go_.

“ _H-hey, are you alright?!”_

No. No no no no _no._ Not now. Please, not now. Whatever deity is up there, forcing this fate on him, _do not_ bring another innocent into this. His mother’s blood was enough on his hands.

“Hey!”

“G-get back!” he snarled, throwing his arms up in an effort to hide his face, to hide all evidence of the tears he shed every shift. “I-I’m fiii—“ his voice trailed off in a keening wail, blood dripping down from his arms, staining his cheeks. A scream and he felt the beast taking over, the monster finally taking form as skin tore away, his bones too heavy to be his own.

“Ya-Yahaba…?” He stared up through the tears, his jaw working to elongate into that familiar maw filled with _teeth_ , long and glittering. Stared up at Kyoutani.

Stared up into the familiar expression of horror.

And then his world went black, the last sight being the golden eyes of his teammate.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho~ Didn't expect that, didja~?  
> Hehehe~  
> I warn you, I'm posting this now, but I won't be able to update until probably after next week. I do apologize for putting this up and essentially leaving you all, I just couldn't wait to post this anymore! I do apologize for it's shortness though. It's hard for me to be so vague for so long, but I wanted it to be a surprise~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoutani isn't prone to panicking. But, in this situation, he feels justified in his (manly) yelp.

Kyoutani wasn’t prone to panicking. He took great pride in that fact.

But when the creampuff from his team was writhing on the ground, turning into a creature straight out of a sci-fi movie, he feels justified in his (manly) yelp. A huge dog with teeth equally large.

Kyoutani doesn’t panic.

His father, on the other hand…

_“…mm…hello_?”

“Dad.” He didn’t want to do this. Really, he didn’t. But there’s no way Kyoutani’s gonna be able to drag Yahaba’s knocked-out ass back to his house. “I need you to pick me up.”

“… _Ken?”_

He _reeaaally_ didn’t want to do this. “Yeah. I need you to pick me up.”

“ _Pick you…? Ken? Aren’t you—“_ He breaks off into a yawn. “A _ren’t you in your room?”_

“Couldn’t sleep. Went for a run. Dad.”

“ _...what time is it?”_

“Fourish.”

“ _Can’t you—_ “ another yawn. “ _Come back on your own? Ken?”_

“Ran into a friend.” If that’s what you can call the boy currently curled in his lap, skin sickeningly hot to the touch. Still out cold.

“ _Is he out on a run too?”_ There’s a moment as Kyoutani tries to think of how to put this, when his father comes through with his nature. “ _Wait, why do you need me to come get you? Ken? Are you okay? You aren’t hurt, are you? Are you alright? Is your friend alright? Ohmygod, please don’t tell me you’re lying in a ditch somewhere with a broken leg because you were hit by a car!”_

That was his father’s greatest fear. That he’d be taken out by a car on his frequent early morning jogs.

“No, I’m fine,” Kyoutani finally huffs, looking down at Yahaba, the setter’s cheeks pink and skin glistening. “Think my friend’s got a fever. He was—“

_“I’ll be **right** there, Ken! Don’t you move! Fever, okay, do we have medicine? Where are my pants? Keys, I need keys, shoes—Ken? Where you at?”_

At-least he won’t have to carry Yahaba home. That would look suspicious.

* * *

 

Kyoutani looks like his mother. He’s got her build, her coloring, the same dark rings around his eyes, the same attitude, and her expressions.

He got his eyes and his height from his father.

It’s funny. With him, his eyes are just about the scariest part of him, highlighted by his default expression of sneers and glowers. With his father, they’re warm, molten gold (his mother once cooed— _she was drunk and that was a terrifying experience—_ about his eyes and how she fell in-love with him nearly the first time she ever saw him). They might have the same eyes, but with the way he’s fluttering around his bed, making sure Yahaba is swaddled up in his sheets, you’d never think they were related.

He’s put to work immediately, given strict orders to sit _right there_ (his father dragged over his desk chair) and make sure the washcloth over their guests’ forehead stays cool and damp while his father calls the school and lets them know ahead of time that neither of them will be attending—Yahaba for obvious reasons and Kyoutani because it’s possible Yahaba might try to wander off “again” in his fever-induced state.

And yes. Kyoutani’s going with Yahaba was out in the woods at four in the morning in his pajamas because he was delirious. He’s sticking with it and his father is totally buying it.

So come five in the morning, his dad’s getting ready for work and then making a good hearty breakfast, adding extra rice in the rice cooker for their guest and getting out some soup for when he wakes up. By seven, he’s gone and Kyoutani’s left alone, rocking back in his chair and staring up at his ceiling.

So he’s staying home to take care of their setter. No problem. Honestly, there’s still the issue of the possible concussion he suffered sometime yesterday that caused that major hallucination last night, but he’s willing to ignore that.

No problem at all.

And then there’s the fact that Yahaba’s phone is now ringing and when Kyoutani fishes it out of his gym bag, the caller ID says ‘Mom’.

He should probably answer. Explain the situation. Assure her that her son is fine and not, in-fact, dying.

_“Shigeru? You didn’t come home last night. How are you feeling? Did—did you get enough to eat?”_ Her voice is soft and low, but he can hear the hint of concern, very much used to his father’s own panic attacks and over-protectiveness (despite the fact that he has about twenty pounds and two inches on him). He imagines a woman who looks an awful lot like Yahaba, with the same fluffy brown hair and eyes.

“…Yahaba-san,” he finally manages, voice equally low with her son still sleeping off the fever after they managed to get the medicine down his throat.

_“Why do you have my son’s phone? Who are you?”_ Her voice immediately rises, sharp, and he’s reminded of that scene at the Inter-High, when he was slammed against the wall. He can’t imagine Yahaba _only_ getting his looks from her, not with the way she sounds about ready to throw him up against a wall herself.

“We’re teammates. Kyoutani Kentarou. Yahaba’s got a fever.”

_“He’s what? Where are you? Are you at school with him?”_

“No ma’am,” he winces when he hears her tongue click. “Found him wanderin’ around the woods this morning on my run,” it’s not a _total_ lie, but since he’s still not convinced last night actually happening, he’s sticking with this. “He’s sleeping it off now.” She’s quiet and Kyoutani wonders now if she’s preparing to leave work since her son is obviously ill—enough that he was _wandering around_.

_“…is he okay? You said the woods?”_ Her voice is soft again, but she sounds just a little broken, like his father does when his mom’s away on a long trip. Concern. But there’s something else there, an edge that his father doesn’t have.

“Think the fever made him delirious,” he mutters.

_“I see. He’s at your home then, Kyoutani-kun?”_

“Yes.”

_“Is he hurt?”_ He must’ve made a sound because she continues _with “From wandering out in the woods so late at night?”_

And he realizes maybe he doesn’t have a concussion. Because there’s that edge in her voice, that slight rasp that alerts him that there’s something there, that _something’s not quite right_.

“No. Just the fever.”

“ _I can be over in an hour. Thank you for your help, Kyoutan—“_

“It’s fine, Yahaba-san. He’s sleeping. My dad already called the school for us, made some soup too.” He’s not sure why he’s insisting, but a small voice offers that it’d be a shame to wake him up and have the fever flare back up. She hums and he leans forward, poking at the washcloth and swapping it for the fresh one in the shallow bowl on his desk. “He needs to rest.”

“ _Yes… Then… Then I leave him in your care, Kyoutani-kun. Please take good care of my son_.”

“Of-course,” he grunts, feeling his skin warm at the sincerity in her voice. She probably wouldn’t have such faith in him if she could see him, but he likes having her trust.

“ _My shift ends at three. I’ll call you then—to come pick him up. G-goodbye, Kyoutani-kun.”_

“Have a good day, Yahaba-san,” he offers quietly. She hums again and then the line goes to static and he sets the phone down, clicking it into sleep mode.

Now. Since he’ll be otherwise bored, he might as well take a nap. He didn’t expect to stay out all night and then stay up longer and calm his father down. He grabs his phone as he rises, rolling his shoulders and hearing a few pops as he steps out of his room, headed down the stairs and towards the couch, setting an alarm for an hour—long enough until he has to change the washcloth again.

 A nap is a lot better than thinking about that concussion he may or may not have.

* * *

 

He hears a crash from his room as he’s scooping out his lunch of rice, an omelet cooking steadily on the hot top. “Yahaba!” He takes a step away from the counter, leaning so he can see around the kitchen wall. “Rice is about ready. You hungry?”

And if he’s grinning at the thought of their know-it-all-setter’s confusion, well, no one needs to know that.

“ _Kyou-kyoutani?”_ He grunts and returns to the counter, flipping his lunch and pulling another bowl from the cabinet, scooping out some for Yahaba and slipping the soup in the microwave to heat up. He’s sure the brunet doesn’t need soup, but his father will worry if it’s untouched by the time he gets home. He hears the hallway creaking and schools his features, lips thinning to a line and brows furrowing slightly. Another few moments pass and then he hears the first step, then the second. It takes him a little bit, no doubt confused where he is and why Kyoutani is there, but he makes it to the bottom, looking around with his shoulders hunched.

Kyoutani, for his part, glances over his shoulder, then jerks his chin towards the kitchen table, sliding the bowls of rice across it and returning to flip his lunch on a plate, the microwave still steadily eating up Yahaba’s lunch.

“Is… Why am I in your house?”

“Dragged your sorry ass home this morning.” Ish.

“ _You what?”_ Kyoutani looks over his shoulder again, golden eyes narrowed on the brunet now behind him, eyes wide.

And panicked.

“Eat your rice. God’s sake…” The microwave dings and he pulls out the bowl quickly. “Soup.” He nudges the bowl towards the other chair, dropping down into his own chair and spearing a large chunk of his lunch. As he chews, Yahaba is still staring at him. He wrinkles his nose, scowling at him. Brown eyes narrow straight back, the setter sliding into the seat and glaring at him from across the table.

“Thank you for the food,” Yahaba spits out, breaking his chopsticks.

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Kyoutani huffs back.

There’s silence in the kitchen, Yahaba eating silently but obviously fuming while Kyoutani is relishing in the slight upper hand he has. While it’s true they’d been getting along better since their loss, there’s still problems that they never rightly resolved. Their dueling personalities, for one, is a big issue.

“So.” Kyoutani drops his elbow on the table (grinning a sharp smile when Yahaba’s eyes narrow to slits at his rude manners) and props his chin in his hand. “Wanna explain last night?”

Yahaba’s away from the table in mere seconds, form tense and shoulders hunched in, face tilted to the left, chin raised as he stares him down with open hostility.

Kyoutani gazes back at him, unamused—and most of all, unafraid.

It’s not exactly something Yahaba’s used to, to be honest. He’s used to him and Kyoutani fighting— _like cats and dogs—_ but not this rather bored expression. Had he ever seen that on him before? Annoyed, yes, angry, yes, but bored?

“The hell is wrong with you?” is what he blurts out, form slacking as Seijoh’s Mad Dog ( _what a ridiculous title)_ gazes back at him.

“Me?” Kyoutani jerks his chin. “What the hell’s wrong with _you_ , Mutt?” Yahaba bristles, nose scrunching up at the less than stellar nickname. Kyoutani bares his teeth in a smile, forking another large bite of omelet into his mouth. “Eat your soup, ‘fore it gets cold.”

“I should really get going,” Yahaba manages to say civilly, inching backwards.

“Your mum said she’d be over around three. Dad already called the school.” Yahaba pauses, turning his head slightly to the side. Kyoutani watches with a brow raised as the setter’s chin tilts up, sniffing. “Christ…” Yahaba whirls back, eyes narrowed, body tensed up again. Kyoutani leans back in his chair, taking in a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed. “Tell me I have a concussion. Last night was some sort of whacked-up dream.”

“Gladly. You were under the influence,” Yahaba purrs, pleased at the expression his wing spiker is wearing. “Honestly, such a delinquent.” Kyoutani tilts his head, glaring at him, eyes near slits.

And Yahaba’s smile disappears, taking on the same serious expression he wore at Inter-High.

“Last night didn’t happen. Thanks for the food and letting me sleep, but I’ll see myself out.” He turned then, taking the steps two at a time. Kyoutani hears him moving around, but stays where he’s at, taking slow, deep breaths. A minute passes, two, then Yahaba’s back down the stairs, changed into his uniform from yesterday, back over his shoulder, and then he’s gone.

Last night hadn’t been a dream. He didn’t have a concussion.

But God did he wish he did.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So~! I was able to update a little sooner than I thought!  
> This one's a little longer than the first, but I'm steadily gonna start making the next chapters longer as we get into it. I'm not sure how long this'll go, but I don't see it being too terribly long. Maybe 20 max?
> 
> Thanks so much for the kudos and the comments! They really mean a lot to me!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was easy to avoid Kyoutani.
> 
> They essentially ignored each other for the better part of the last year, so doing so again wasn’t too difficult.
> 
> And it all came crashing down because of a child. No one knew Kyoutani had a younger brother.

It was easy to avoid Kyoutani.

They essentially ignored each other for the better part of the last year, so doing so again wasn’t too difficult.

It’s just… back then, it had been mutual. This time it was, well. Not.

Yahaba managed it for two weeks—and practice was difficult, but he managed it spectacularly (he stuck to Oikawa like glue and everyone knew Kyoutani would avoid their Captain at all costs). And it was obvious he wanted to talk, to get answers, to know _what the hell was going on_ , but he apparently didn’t need to have his every question solved so fast, considering he refused to come within five feet of Oikawa.

He managed it for two weeks. Two weeks of silence between the two of them when they were doing so well before. Two weeks of Watari watching them curiously, but choosing to say nothing. Two weeks of voluntarily sticking to Oikawa and silently bearing that terror. Two weeks of his mother’s quiet glances, having absolutely no idea what had really gone down that night. Two weeks of faking a dark look when Kyoutani even so much as looked at him.

And it all came crashing down because of a child.

* * *

 

“Onii-san!” Yahaba paused, glancing down at the boy tugging on his shorts. Black hair, cut close to his head and scruffy, wide brown eyes, and a missing bottom tooth. “I’m looking for my nii-chan!” The scent was freakishly familiar and the child looked up at him with the biggest eyes Yahaba had ever seen outside of Oikawa.

He’d been on his way back to the gym, called out to go talk with the girl’s volleyball captain, when this little boy, no more than six, scampered up to him.

“Oh?”

“He plays volleyball!” Yahaba hummed. That would explain the smell. It’s not like he took particular notice of things like that, but his own monstrous heritage proved useful for some things. “Onii-san, can I go with you?”

“Mm, well… I suppose…” He doubted their coaches would appreciate the child rushing into their practice and distracting his brother, but maybe they could peek in from the doors. “Gotta be quiet though, okay?” The boy nodded eagerly, immediately taking hold of his hand. Yahaba blinked down at the motion, but let the kid be. He was in elementary, so he was probably used to holding onto his mother’s hand when going somewhere or the teacher’s. “Hey, did you come here alone?” He was too little to be going around all by himself.

“Mom needed groceries and told me to come watch Nii-chan while she shopped!”

Let it be known, Seijoh’s Men’s Volleyball Club was now apparently doubling as a daycare.

“I… see.” Well, if the mother couldn’t take the time to watch the child she was raising, Yahaba supposed he could keep an eye on the boy until he found the brother and scolded him. “I’m Yahaba Shigeru. What’s your name?”

“Hideo!”

“Well, Hideo-kun, let’s go see if we can find your brother. Will your mom take long?”

“No. Mom doesn’t like grocery shopping, like Nii-chan. Daddy does it, but we just got back so Mom wants to surprise Daddy and Nii-chan!” Hideo skipped along beside him cheerfully and Yahaba found himself smiling a bit.

“Just got back?”

“We were on a trip! Daddy missed Mom, so me and Nii-chan will go camping tonight!” Yahaba stared down at the boy, smile twitching.

Oh my.

“Camping…” he echoed faintly.

“Mm-hm!” Hideo beamed up at him, eyes even brighter somehow. “Nii-chan sets up the tent and I get the couch cushions! Nii-chan’s really smart, he knows all about the stars! Sometimes we even go up in the treehouse!” Ah. Just in the backyard. “Ne ne, Shige-kun,” Yahaba starts at the nickname, “Do you play with Nii-chan?”

“Ah. Yes.”

Hideo’s smile brings his own to his lips once more.

* * *

 

“Ah! Yahaba-chan, _there_ you are!” Oikawa crows, pouting at the partially hidden reserve setter and next year’s captain. “You took so long, I was about ready to send out a search party!”

Yahaba, for his part, steps into the gym from where he had been peeking in with Hideo, the child clinging to his t-shirt as he follows silently, eyes wide and taking everything in. “Sorry.”

“Oh? Yahaba-chan, do you have a little brother we didn’t know about?” Yahaba glances down at the boy, who blinks back up at him. “Oh, he’s cute~! Hello~!” Oikawa nearly prances forward, grinning down at Hideo, who looks up at him with those same wide eyes. The slam of a ball against the floor attracts Yahaba’s attention, looking across the court to see Kyoutani just beginning to rise from the landing. As if sensing it, the box blond turns his head slightly, looking over at him.

Then, near panic.

Yahaba was not prepared for their wing spiker to turn and jog off the court in the middle of their three-on-three, Iwaizumi’s confused calls tapering off as he sees there the blond is going. Straight for them.

Hideo lit up. “Nii-chan!” Yahaba reached out, pulling on the back of Hideo’s t-shirt, the little boy drawing short and stopping, looking back up at him. “Shige-kun?”

“Don’t run across the gym; you could get hurt.” Before him, Oikawa looks about ready to start cooing.

“Hideo, how’d you get here?” When Kyoutani is finally off the last court, Yahaba let go and the boy bolts, like a wind-up toy. Their gruff wing-spiker cracked a smile, leaning down and picking up his brother easily, the child throwing his thin arms around his neck. “Mm, missed you,” he murmured into the boy’s familiar hair.

Something pattered in Yahaba’s chest and he recognized the feeling. He doesn’t dwell on it, swallowing it down and shoving it away. Volleyball practice is not the place to have a crisis regarding his family life.

“Shige-kun brought me!” Kyoutani’s golden eyes flit over to the setter, who gazed back reluctantly.

“Yeah, but where’s Ma?”

“Shopping!” Kyoutani’s brows furrowed and if Yahaba’s reading the expression right (it’s honestly a little hard to tell), he feels justly embarrassed. But now that he knows it’s Kyoutani, he feels like the scolding can wait. “Mom said to come watch!” Kyoutani clicked his tongue, obviously disagreeing with that. “Are we camping tonight?”

“If ya want…” He looks away, making contact with Yahaba, who gazed back evenly. “Sorry.” Kyoutani dipped his head a bit.

“It’s fine. But we do need to practice,” Yahaba looked over at their Captain, who seemed pleased just watching the scene. “Oikawa-san?”

“Hmm~? Oh, well, I suppose.” He sighed, raising his hands in a motion that’s clearly “if we must.” His lips quirked though, eyes narrowed and calculating. Yahaba immediately doesn’t like it. “But, Mad Dog-chan,” Kyoutani tsks again and Hideo looked up at his elder brother curiously. “Someone needs to watch Hideo-kun.”

“Obviously,” Kyoutani bit out, a frown just beginning to form.

“Oi! Trashykawa! What’s going on?” Cue volleyball to the back of the pretty setter’s head, the brunet down and crouched on the floor, holding at his head and sobbing.

“Mean! Mean! Iwa-chan’s so mean to me!” Yahaba looked down at his senior blankly, the thought of ‘ _He’s really a third-year?’_ running through his head once more.

“Iwaizumi-san,” Kyoutani murmurs, lowering his eyes as a sign of his respect. Hideo squeaks and when he started wriggling, his brother let him down hesitantly. Yahaba (and Oikawa, who had stopped “sobbing”) watch as the boy makes a beeline for the other third year, tugging on his hand. “Hideo, stop, what—“

“Iwai-san!” The ace looks down at the munchkin, raising a brow. Hideo beams up at him.

“Oh? Need something?” Iwaizumi’s been around Takeru enough that he’s somewhat used to dealing with children. The boy’s sixth birthday party, for example, proved that he’s honestly better suited at handling children than Oikawa.

“It’s nice to meet you! I’m Kyoutani Hideo!” And the child ends by bowing at an almost perfect 90 degrees, the third year now flustered and the elder Kyoutani hovering, hands uselessly trapped mid-air.

Oikawa coos now and Yahaba sighs heavily.

* * *

 

“Ya… Yahaba…” The fluffy brunet wasn’t aware they were now on speaking terms. In-fact, he was almost one-hundred percent sure they weren’t. Sure, the younger Kyoutani was cute, but just because their Mad Dog had a little brother didn’t mean he wanted to talk. But when he pulled his shirt over his head, looking over his shoulder to give the delinquent a blank look, it soon shifts to curiosity.

Kyoutani is pouting. That’s the only word for it. He’s looking away, his shoulders are hunched, his eyes are narrowed a bit and there’s a furrow between his brows. Definitely pouting.

“Yeah?” A paper is thrust into his face by the wing spiker and he takes it with a small smirk. “Oh?” Kyoutani huffs, still refusing to look at him. The setter continues to grin as he unfolds the pale green sheet, opening it to find a picture of a fluffy yellow dog with black stripes and a fluffy brown dog, the messy kanji around it proclaiming the brown one to be him and the yellow one to be Kyoutani. Signed at the bottom, it’s apparently from Hideo.

All laughter disappears. As does his smile.

He returns to the blank look, fingers tightening on the paper, beginning to crinkle the edges.

“I don’t know what you did,” Kyoutani’s frown deepened as he finally makes eye-contact. Yahaba feels like he’s the one who should be angry, but instead, Mad Dog is glaring at him. “But he drew probably ten different pictures and said that was the best one.” Yahaba quirks a brow. Kyoutani scoffs, straightening and crossing his arms over his chest. “He wanted to give it to you, but he can’t come to practice again like that.”

“So you played messenger?” He watches with a sort of satisfaction as the wing spiker’s jaw tightened. “Cute.”

“He wants to know your favorite animal.” Kyoutani bit out, apparently pained at having to ask these questions of the teen. It’s not like they were friends and the brunet made it clear he didn’t want to be. “And… color…”

“Why?” Kyoutani gives him a look like it should be obvious. “What?” he snaps back, beginning to get annoyed.

“He’s six.” Yahaba shrugs, looking for all the world like it’s not his problem. “He wants to draw you pictures.”

Yahaba is dumbfounded by the statement. “Oh.” He’s never really hung around younger kids. Was this common behavior? “Okay. Um. I…” He pursed his lips, looking down at the picture of the dogs. He takes a breath. Dogs are common and no doubt he heard Oikawa call his brother ‘Mad Dog’ and went from there. “I like green,” he waves the paper lightly, hoping Kyoutani gets the idea that it’s more of a mint green than grass green. “Cats are cool.” He watched as Kyoutani’s shoulders sag, head drooping a bit. “Now what’s your problem?”

“What _kinda_ cats? House cats? Lions? Tigers?” Golden eyes look up at him, the same intensity in them as usual. “If I come back with _cats_ , he’s gonna draw another twenty trying to figure out _what_ cat.”

Yahaba’s touched, honestly. “What would he find cool?”

“Tigers.” Kyoutani’s response is quick, no hesitation. Yahaba takes that as Hideo likes tigers.

“Tigers it is.” Kyoutani lets out a breath, nodding.

“Awesome.” He seems to realize the others have gone by now and its then that SociallyAwkward!Kyoutani makes his stunning returning: he gives another nod, this one more wobbly, and practically bolts, his jacket sung over his shoulder and tie stuffed in his pocket.

And Yahaba can’t find it in him to dim his smile.

Come next morning, a yellow piece of paper is shoved in his face, an orange and black striped tiger with round green eyes grinning up at him with sharp teeth. He follows the hand up to blink at Kyoutani, who looking anywhere but at him. Down the bench a little, Oikawa is watching curiously. “What’s this? Mad Dog-chan?” Kyoutani shoots their Captain a dark look and the setter raises his hands up, a smile on his lips apparently meaning ‘never mind.’

“Hideo’s favorite color is yellow,” Kyoutani offers slowly. To stop this awkwardness from spreading, Yahaba gives a small smile and takes the picture, folding it in half and slipping it into his bag, next to the green paper with dogs.

If he didn’t know better, he’s say Hideo was trying to make him and the elder Kyoutani friends. But a six-year-old doesn’t think like that. He probably just thought Yahaba was nice.

And it’s fine, getting the pictures delivered by Kyoutani. It’s fine for the next few days. Yahaba smiles, accepts the picture, answers Hideo’s questions (“My birthday’s March 1st.” “I like ikura don.” “A six-year-old knows what Zodaic are? Fine, I’m a Pisces.” “Last time I went to the zoo? Uh, I think… four years ago? Maybe three?” “No… Dogs are nice. I guess. I just like cats more.” “I can’t say what a penguin would feel like. Smooth? Probably wet. Why does your brother want to know if I know what a penguin feels like?”)

But he should’ve known it wouldn’t work out. And he learns this when Kyoutani hands over the daily picture, but with the addition of a small white envelope. Instead of hanging around to ask Hideo’s question, Kyoutani turns and stalks to his bag, changing quickly and then bolting. Oikawa and Iwaizumi, who had been dragged into watching the awkward scenes (and would later pat Kyoutani on the back and give the second-year a nod) shuffle closer. Yahaba unfolded the paper and finds a drawing of penguins this time. He slips it in with the others, turning to the envelope next, flipping ti over and seeing his name written out in neat kanji.

“Ohh? What is it? What is it? Open it, Yahaba-chan!” Iwaizumi smacks the back of his head and while he’s pouting, Yahaba slips a finger under the flap, flipping it up.

He pulls out a birthday party invitation. Hideo turns seven on Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm, so I was kinda gone for a bit. This is actually one of three on-going stories I have on here and I'm not entirely sure what I was high on when I decided to start another. 
> 
> I meant for this to be a little darker? But then I added in Kyoutani's cute little brother and now it's going a fluffy route? I have no issue with that, I'm just wondering where I'll go from here and if I need to change the tags. 
> 
> True story: there was this little girl at my old daycare that absolutely loved me and drew me pictures to give to me every morning before I caught the bus to school. I kept them in my violin case and I still have all of them. I can't tell you what they're supposed to be, but I still have them. I based Hideo off her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yahaba begins planning for a birthday present, enlisting the help of his mother.
> 
> But danger lurks around every corner.
> 
> So does Kyoutani.

“Mom?” Yahaba leaned around the corner, finding her easily in the kitchen. She hummed and he stepped in, the small envelope in hand. “You…” he looked away, brows furrowed as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He didn’t want to do this. Sure, he liked the kid, but he wanted to keep away from his brother.

“Shigeru?” Brown eyes flicked up to hers, darker brown gazing back at him curiously. “Is something wrong?” He shook his head and she settled back against the counter, hands clasped loosely in-front of her. Waiting.

“Remember couple weeks ago?” All easy-going posture she had disappeared, her form tensing and the familiar scent of stress beginning to surround her.

“Yes.”

He never did tell her what happened, mostly because he had no idea. “Kyoutani, he…” he wrinkled his nose, trying to figure out how to explain this. “Met his little brother. He’s turning seven,” he held up the envelope, holding it out. She didn’t have to reach very far, slipping the card out of its wrapping and opening, seeing the neat kanji that gave the date, time, and address for Hideo’s birthday. “I dunno, I guess he really likes me?” she nodded slowly, looking up from the invitation in her hands, the confusion obvious on her face.

“Shigeru, you know you don’t need my permission, right?” she questioned quietly, no doubt wondering why he was showing her this in the first place.

“No, see, he, uh, he really likes tigers, so, I was wondering if, um, you could, uh, maybe… paint one?” He looked up from under his bangs at her, tugging his lip in to bite at it. She dropped her eyes back down to card, nose wrinkling slightly.

“Tigers, huh?” he nodded. “Well… I’ll see what I can do. I have a few hours Thursday, that should be enough…” She looked up, smiling lightly and slipping the card back into the envelope, handing it back. “How’d you meet Kyoutani-kun’s little brother?”

“He showed up at practice. He’s been drawing me pictures. Kyoutani says he likes me, so…” he shrugged a bit, hoping she understood he honestly had no idea. But her smile was still in place and he let it go. “Thanks, mom.”

“Sure. Hey, I need some eggs and we’re running low on milk. I have a list, do you mind running to the store?” She ripped the top sheet off the pad, handing it over, grin widening. “I’ll be back in time for dinner tomorrow, so, I was thinking, hamburger?” He took the list, glancing down at the scribbles that was his mother’s quick writing, raising a brow. “Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything!” She wrinkled her nose again, turning to reach for a towel. He skipped out towards the door, snickering at her huffing. “Be back in a bit!”

“Wait wait wait! You need money!” He paused, pivoting on his heel and standing at attention while she rooted around for her purse. “Where…?” He pointed towards the couch. “Ah.” She pulled out her wallet, slipping some yen and handing it over. “Here we go. Look both ways, be safe~!”

“Mom, I’m not six,” he deadpanned, grabbing his jacket.

“No, but you’re my baby~!” she cooed, reaching to tug down his face, kissing his cheek sloppily. “Mwah! Love you!”

“Gross!” He swiped at his face with his sleeve as she laughed, closing the door behind him.

* * *

 

“Yamada-san!” he stepped through the doors, the little bell jingling as it closed. “Yamada-san? Are you here?” The shop was surprisingly quiet, only the ceiling fan gently twirling and sending a slight breeze. “Hello? Yamada-san, Yuriko-san, it’s Shig—“

_Blood. He can smell blood._

There was too much for it to be just a simple papercut, or that Yamada-san nicked his hand opening a box again. But there wasn’t enough for someone to bleeding out fatally _and get ahold of yourself, Shigeru, the store is probably being **robbed**_.

He stood, systematically taking in the store with keen eyes, watching for movement, listening for sounds (finally, something good from this curse).

_There._

He whirled towards the backroom, slinking towards the flowy white curtains and pausing right outside. He tilted his head, brown eyes flat as he waited for another shift. “I’ll just leave the money on the counter! I’ll be by again later! Bye!” He slipped a coin from his pocket, tossing it towards the little bell, waiting for the ringing to stop before his expression went flat and he heard the muffled whine of someone in pain.

He was well familiar with the sound at this point.

“ _Shut up! If you’d just hurried up, this wouldn’t have happened! Damn fool!”_ He stepped away from the doorframe, slipping back so he wouldn’t be seen. He heard shuffling, a curse slipping out from the intruder, and Yamada-san’s pleas, fingers curling to fists at his side while he rolled his shoulders. “ _Just open the register already and you’ll be fine!”_ The curtains flew aside and he lunged.

“Sh-shigeru!”

He stared back at the man trembling beneath his hand, watching as dull, mud-colored eyes gazed back at him in surprise. “W-what the—“ Shigeru’s hold around his throat tightened and the man’s complaints fizzled into a strained rasp, fingers clawing at his hand, eyes beginning to bulge.

“Yamada-san,” he began carefully, refusing to take his eyes off the would-be attacker. “Please call the police.”

“Shigeru, boy, what are you—“ The man sneered at him and Shigeru’s eyes flashed gold, baring enlarged canines. He heard Yamada stumble towards the counter, the phone pulled from the receiver. “Yes, yes hello, I’d like to re-report a robbery! No, no, yes, he’s here! Right now!” Shigeru’s smile flashed and the man stiffened. “No, no, w-well, yes, but—oh, no I’d hate to be a bother, really. No, one of my neighbors helped me out! What? Well, yes, he is, but I—“

For once, he could feel the familiar rage creeping up, but he was in control. He was in control of _all of it._ Maybe because the pull of the moon wasn’t there. Maybe it was because he never explored this other part of himself—hadn’t wanted to. It was dangerous, as he very well knew. He knew what would happen, if he lost control. He’d hurt someone. Someone innocent. Like his mother.

He’d read stories, teen novels about the romantic side of the supernatural, how they had such control and they retained their humanity whilst in their other form, no matter the moon pulling at their skin and breaking their bones. He’d read them for fun, a good laugh—but he’d come away with an anger that no one could understand. The girls in his class had swooned over these fictional teens who possessed the same curse he did, but used it to explore the night and the world, embraced it.

How could he ever embraced such a wild animal? How could this curse possibly be good, when he never had memory of where the blood on his hands came from, the taste in his mouth, the red smeared across his cheeks?

He tightened his hold, the man squeaking, before he pulled him forward, expression expertly blank, emotions locked down, as he slammed the him back, his head cracking against the wall and making a disturbing crack. A groan and he let go, the intruder slumping down the wall, bright red smearing as he went.

He watched as he went, eyes impassive. Waited until the man leans precariously over before turning to look back at Yamada. “He shouldn’t give you any trouble until they get here.”

Shigeru expected a look of disguised horror.

He just didn’t expect to have another audience member and have Yamada look at him with such gratitude in his eyes, despite the blood staining the shoulder of his worn gray button-up. His elder raised his hands up, tears in his eyes, until he winced, dropping his arm to hold at his shoulder. “Shigeru, thank you, boy!” he twitched again, but Shigeru was too busy staring at the bottle blond staring back at him with alarmed golden eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t come and stopped him! Come, come!” he raised his good arm up, gesturing for the monster to come closer, the gesture familiar. Like he’d done all these years, Yamada wanted to hug him.  

But he stepped away, looking back at the man who was passed out on the floor, his blood slowly trailing down the wall.

He swallowed thickly, choking the bile back down.

Control? What control? _Look at what he’d done. **This was control?**_

He bolted, pushing past his teammate and ignoring Yamada’s surprised shout, tearing out the door and running for his life.

Back towards where it all began. Back to his first victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than I wanted it to be, but I didn't want to go further and then just cut off. 
> 
> Sorry about the delay in getting this out though! I'm gonna aim for getting the 5th chapter up by next Friday!
> 
> On another note, I actually really like Yahaba's mom. Like, I've planned this out that while Shigeru is still so goddamn guilty about something waaay out of his control, his mother is just calmly there and working hard and accepting him, despite the scars she bears. I've considered bringing his dad back (to check on in the squirt) but I'm still on the fence about that. Like this is all his fault and I don't think I wanna go down that dark path since I started making this lighter (though i did just delve a bit into Yahaba's darker thoughts, so...)
> 
> Welp! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated and totally loved!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoutani always seemed to find Yahaba when he was in compromising situations. 
> 
> He didn’t like it, and it wasn’t helping with his plan of getting on civil terms with his teammates—especially the setter

Kyoutani expected a normal trip to the corner store. Go in, grab some snacks for Hideo, two sports drinks, one of Yuriko-san’s bentos, and something to make for dinner (and while he claims to be decent in the kitchen, the fact of the matter is that he’s the only good one aside from his father—they would all had died long ago if not for them).

So, he made his way down the street, made it to the front of the store, before he saw someone slammed against the wall inside. The door opened easily enough, but the bell didn’t ring.

Which meant he watched as the familiar brunet gazed at the man in his hold with such a blank expression, Yoichi-san speaking on the phone with the police, asking for them to come quick. There was a squeak from the would-be robber, then a sickening crack, blood trailing behind on the wall as the man slumped to the floor and his teammate turned around.

Kyoutani always seemed to find Yahaba when he was in compromising situations. He didn’t like it, and it wasn’t helping with his plan of getting on civil terms with his teammates—especially the setter. To be honest, he’d be surprised if Yahaba didn’t throw him up against a wall again and chew him out, what with everything he’s been learning about the mild-mannered teen.

And then, well, he’s pushed aside and the door is slamming shut—and oh hey, the bell got unstuck, so now it’s ringing. And Yoichi-san looks hurt and locks eyes with him. 

“Kentarou!”

“Yoichi-san.”

And now he’s stuck here to console the neighborhood grocer. He hopes his mother doesn’t try to use the oven. They can’t afford to redo the kitchen again.

* * *

 

Let it be known, Oikawa Tooru is a generous man. He accepts his teammates’ short-comings (there were many) and he tries to get along with them all despite those shortcomings (it was a hassle).

But he is not so generous to let his protégé skip practice for the second day in a row.

This month, he’s noted, is cursed somehow. First, Yahaba’s all out of sorts at practice. Understandable, alright, it was a bad day and he was working off steam. Understandable, if said kouhai had bothered to show up the next day—but he didn’t. So, Oikawa was concerned. When Iwa-chan mentioned their Mad dog was AWOL too, well, that meant he spent the next break tracking down the nice lady in the office and fluttering his lashes in the hopes that one of them called in sick.

They did. Or, Kyotani’s father had. Apparently, Yahaba had a raging fever that sent him out wandering in the woods and it was only Kyoutani’s ungodly early morning jog that saved the setter from getting worse. Honestly, it was surprising, the gossip he learned just by having an in at the office, and how oddly _nice_ Kyoutani’s father sounded.

So okay. He’s willing to let them both go, given the circumstances. He didn’t even mention it the next day, despite the tension between the two. And he lets it be. Kyoutani doesn’t skip, Yahaba’s back to normal, but their interactions are… hostile? But it’s odd, because it’s _Yahaba_ who’s vicious towards _Kyoutani_ , who it seems is actually making an effort to be decent.

So yes. He was concerned. But things had perked up, what with the surprise visit from Mad Dog’s cute little brother (who seemed to share his unrivaled respect for Iwa-chan, being all adorable and formal and making his Ace _blush_ ) and the pictures the little tyke would draw Yahaba.

And now this nonsense three days ago.

An officer came to practice, calling out for Kyoutani, and fifteen minutes later, the two were shaking hands and the man was praising the delinquent for his cool head and brave actions. Both the blond and the team were surprised, but the officer apologized for the disruption and went on his merry way, leaving more questions than answers, all of which revolved around their Ace-in-training, and none that would be answered by said Ace-in-training.

Except Kyoutani muttered out that he happened to help out the owner of a store being robbed, and the officer was just here to follow-up. Iwa-chan looked like a proud father and their coaches were understandably impressed. Honestly, they knew Kyoutani wasn’t a delinquent, but stopping a store robbery? Well now. They have a hero in their midst. So while Kyoutani was surrounded and there was much pattings of the back and proud nods from Iwa-chan, Oikawa was left to wonder at the odd situation and the fact that Yahaba was sick _again._

And now, come lunch on Friday, he was less inclined to believe the setter was just skipping out and something was honestly wrong. Three days? Unheard of. And he hadn’t even received a text or anything.

This calls for an emergency meeting and a visit after practice.

* * *

 

“—Kyoutani-kun?” the second-year paused, tilting his head to glower at the voice. One of the office ladies’ smile trembled. “Ky-kyoutani-kun, just a moment, please,” she waved a hand and he hunched his shoulders, stomping towards her. He towered over her small frame and he could almost hear her squeak. “Ya-Yahaba-san!” Heels steps clicked on the floor and Kyoutani straightened up, expression melting into something blank. “Yahaba-san is he-here for Shigeru’s school work! Would you mind escorting her to 2-5 to collect it?” The office lady bobbed a quick bow before skittering away, leaving the bleached blond with a woman who looked too much like the setter.

The same brown eyes, the same brown hair, but hers’ was long and pulled back into a simple bun, plain silver stubs in her ears. A navy pencil skirt, cream blouse, black heels.

“Are you a teacher?”

“I’m a nurse.” A smile curled on her lips, a curious gleam in her eyes. “Kyoutani… Kentarou, yes?” He jerked a nod, lips twitching. Her smile faded and he waited as she took him in, wondering how she felt now that she’d seen him. “You helped Shigeru out a few weeks ago.”

“’S nothing.”

“Mm. Well, thank you.” He twitched again when she bowed her head. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“…it’s fine.” She straightened and he wondered what Yahaba got from his father, given he was a near copy of his mother. “This way.” Her steps clicked behind him steadily and he found himself hunching, mindful of the curious looks he was getting as they made their way towards the second-year hall.

“Ah! And here you are, Mad Dog-chan!” He growled at the overly loud voice, glaring at the fluffy-haired Captain. “I knew I’d find you sulking around the halls! Say, Kyoutani, do you know what’s happened with Yahaba? Imagine, not even texting his beloved Captain that he’s ill! I do hope it’s nothing too bad,” the brunet had theatrically threw a hand against his forehead before settling his arms crossed over his chest. “You know where he lives, don’t you? We should visit! Moral support! Oh?” Oikawa finally noticed the woman behind their wing spiker, blinking curiously.

“Oikawa-kun, yes?” she smiled simply.

He raised a brow. “Indeed.”

“Well, unfortunately, Shigeru’s down with the flu. I’m sure he’ll be better by Monday. Thank you for your concern though, I’ll mention it when I get home.”

“Ohh! Yahaba-san! Well, it’s nice to meet you!” Oikawa glided forward, taking her offered hand and shaking it. “Poor Yahaba-chan! The flu? No wonder!”

“Yes, it’s too bad. Ah, please excuse us, Oikawa-kun, I’m just here for his schoolwork, I really need to get back.” He stepped back, smiling brilliantly.

“Of-course! Give Yahaba-chan our best!” He gave a cheery wave before flouncing off, leaving Kyoutani to stalk forward, hands shoved deep in his pockets. A moment and the clicking returned.

“Kyoutani-kun.” He held back a step, falling in beside her, glancing from the corner of his eye. “Are you terribly busy tonight?” It was Friday. After practice, there was nothing going on. If he went home, he’d be recruited into the cleaning squad his mother would be putting together—which meant him while she watched her show and shouted orders.

“Not really?”   

“If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to thank you properly for what you’ve done for Shigeru. And I understand your little brother has a party tomorrow.” He narrowed his eyes a bit, tilting his head slightly. “I’m afraid… Shigeru probably won’t make it. But we do have a present for Hideo. You can pick it up after dinner?” she offered calmly, a soft smile on her lips.

She looked remarkably young, he realized. Too young to be the mother of second-year. Odd.

“I… don’t wanna impose…”

“It’s not a bother. I think it’ll help Shigeru a bit, since he’s been…” Her expression hardened and he was suddenly reminded of the moment on the phone when her tone had shifted so much. All his instincts he was so proud of tensed, urging him to step away _because this woman was dangerous_. “…well. He hasn’t quite been feeling himself. You understand.” There was a severe glint in her eyes, lips pressed into a thin line.

He jerked to a rough stop, motioning to the door ahead of him. “2-5. Nice to meet you, Yahaba-san.” He bobbed his head, turning on his heel.

“Kyoutani-kun.” He stopped, closing his eyes briefly and taking in a breath. “Dinner at seven. I look forward to seeing you.” He looked over his shoulder, saw the simple slip of paper she held out. His eyes narrowed in on. When had she had the time? Did she plan this beforehand? Come to think of it, parents rarely came in for schoolwork, someone was usually sent home…

He turned, straightening to his full height and gazing down at her blankly. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, Yahaba-san. Since he’s avoiding me.”

Her smile sharpened. “Nonsense. Shigeru just needs to actually work things out. He never talked to you, did he?” He tilted his chin up. “As I thought. Dinner. Seven. I expect you there.”

“Or else?” He raised a thin brow, jaw set.

“I do have your mother’s phone number,” she mused, lifting the paper up a bit higher. He twitched at the threat. “And I would hate for Hideo not to get Shigeru’s present. It’s such a big day for him tomorrow and it’s a pity Shigeru can’t make it.”

For being Yahaba’s mother, Kyoutani would’ve pegged her for Oikawa’s. “Fine.” He took the slip, glowering down at it and realizing they only lived a few blocks up from him. “That’s why he was…” he folded the paper, slipping it into his pocket. “Seven.”

Her smile was disgustingly pleased.

* * *

 

Shigeru scrubbed hard at the floor, the scrub in his hands foamy and bristles folding hard against his strength. His hands were red from the force, the cuts around his nails stinging and numb, the blood dried. But he kept scrubbing against the floor, hunched over on his knees, body moving with the motions. Sweat was sticking to the back of his neck and coating his forehead, making his bangs cling to his skin, but he didn’t bother swiping it away, ignoring it as it trickled across his skin.

He had to keep scrubbing. He had to get the stain out. He had to get the blood out.

He didn’t bother when the door opened to reveal his mother, pressing the brush hard in the bucket beside him, pulling it out and ignoring the fresh sting from the bleach, pressing down hard at the floor again, scrubbing away his sins.

“Oh… Oh, Shigeru… Honey…”

He ignored his tears and how his chest tightened, ignored his mother as she set down her things and closed the door, slowly making her way towards him to wrap her arms around him, her sniffles masking his own heaving breaths.

“Baby, baby stop, it’s okay, honey, you need to stop, everything’s okay, it’s not there, there’s nothing there—“

“I can see it, I still see it, I need to get it out, I just need more bleach, I’ll get it out, I promise—I promise, I’ll get it out…” he swallowed thickly, woozy from the fumes, but carrying on.

He knew, after-all. It wasn’t so easy to get rid of the blood on your hands.

* * *

 

“Shigeru! Dinner!” She smiled across the living room at their guest, candles and sprays masking the sharp smell of the bleach she only managed to wrangle her son away from an hour ago. Kyoutani quirked a side of his lips and she took that as a good start. “I made your favorite!”

“ _…not hungry…”_

“Shigeru, you’re eating dinner,” she stepped closer to the bottom of the steps. “I know you didn’t have lunch.”

“ _...I’m fine…”_

She narrowed her eyes, resting her fists on her hips. “You can’t _not_ eat, Shigeru. I won’t let you starve yourself.”

“ _Why?”_ She rolled her eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. “ _Everyone—everyone would be better off, wouldn’t they!?”_ Kyoutani twitched at the sudden rise in volume.

“Shigeru, we have a guest. Come down and have dinner.” They heard the distinct curse and then footsteps. She stepped away from the stairs, smiling cheerily once more as she slipped into the kitchen.

“ _You.”_ Kyoutani glowered right back at him, the setter paused halfway down the stairs. “ _What are **you** doing here?”_

“I invited him over, be nice, Shigeru!” The setter raised his lip in distaste and Kyoutani’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Well boys, come on!” Both were wondering if she was enjoying this. “ _Now.”_ Kyoutani rose obediently, trotting towards the table, Yahaba following after him, form trembling.

“Mother…”

“Hush. Eat your dinner,” she tapped at the plate that had an extra-large helping of rice. He wrinkled his nose, sitting down reluctantly. Kyoutani took the seat across from him, bowing his head lightly and clapping his hands together.

“Thank you for the food.” She smiled warmly and he dropped his hands, picking up his chopsticks and spearing a piece of meat.

“So. Shigeru, Kyoutani-kun was worried about you—“ Kyoutani choked on his slice of hamburger, shooting her an incredulous look, “—but I assured him you’d be okay to make it to Hideo-kun’s birthday. I know it would really mean a lot to Hideo-kun, so,” her smile dropped and she appraised her son with a calculating look. “You’re going.”

Yahaba turned his face away, eyes narrowed down at the table. Kyoutani swallowed hard, placing his chopsticks down. “I’m not.”

“You are. Because I’ve already called Chiyo-san and she’s looking forward to meeting you.” Yahaba’s head shot up, staring at his mother incredulously. Her expression was still hard. “Don’t make a liar out of me.”

“Mom, please, I don’t—“

“Because you’re afraid, Shigeru? Of what? Kyoutani-kun?” she tilted her head, watching him with a remarkably soft look on her face. Kyoutani, for his part, was amazed she could switch expressions so quickly. “Of your father?” she questioned and Yahaba stiffened. She raised a hand and when Kyoutani thought she was going to reach for her son, she instead rested her hand on his arm, glancing at him briefly. “Tell me, Kyoutani-kun: Are you afraid of my son?”

Identical brown eyes stared back at him, one kindly and the other…

Kyoutani had never seen Yahaba so terrified.

He glanced down at the hand on his arm before raising his eyes to the setter, tilting his chin up a bit. “This creampuff? Tch. No way.” He smirked in something akin to challenge and he’s pleased when Yahaba sneered back and his mother seemed to brighten up.    

“So rude, _Mad Dog-chan,”_ Yahaba hissed, biting into one of his own slices of hamburger.

Kyoutani clicked his tongue. “Like you’re any better, _Mutt_.” Yahaba’s eyes slit further and Kyoutani’s smile is positively feral.

“…my. I didn’t know you got along so well,” Yahaba-san mused, eating her rice delicately. “It’s nice you have such good friends, Shigeru,” she adds calmly. “Tell me, Kentarou-kun,” Kyoutani blinked at the shift of address. “When Shigeru was—what did you say happened? A fever?—a few weeks ago, you seemed fairly calm with the entire situation.” Yahaba stilled. “Would you mind elaborating what exactly happened?”

Kyoutani blinked slowly at her, then shifted his gaze to the setter. “You don’t remember?”

Yahaba huffed, turning his face away, expression darkening. “I _never_ remember...”

Kyoutani’s face was carefully blank. “After you… shifted,” he glanced to his mother, who nodded encouragingly. “I kept my distance.”

“Good call,” Yahaba bit out.

“But you…” Kyoutani pursed his lips, staring down at his rice for a long moment. Yahaba-san tilted her head a bit before glancing back questioningly at her son, who shrugged, at a loss. Kyoutani screwed up his face, looking across at the monster before him.

“Well?”

“You came at me, sniffed a bit, then brought me a stick.”

Both Yahabas blinked rapidly before looking at each other, Shigeru in growing horror and his mother with a widening smile. “I _did **not.** ”_

“And then I had to rub your tummy for the next half hour.” Yahaba-san squeaked, hands rising quickly to cover her mouth while Shigeru paled. “So am I afraid of you? Nope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Whatcha think~?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is continued.
> 
> Yahaba attends a birthday party and meets the eldest Kyoutani.

“I didn’t! You’re lying!” Yahaba raised a hand to cover his mouth, horror in his eyes at the mere _thought_. Kyoutani shrugged calmly, chewing thoughtfully on his rice before looking over at the matriarch of the Yahaba-household.

“This is really good. Did you add anything?” His mother beamed at the praise, going through her super-awesome-Minaro-family-recipe. The younger’s lip twitched in irritation.

“ _Stop ignoring me.”_ His mother frowned at him, waving a hand absently, before imparting more of her cooking wisdom to the box blond. Kyoutani gazed at her, nodding every so often. “ _Hey_.” Golden eyes flashed to him.

“I told you already. You brought a stick and then I petted you,” the wing spiker huffed, eyes narrowing slightly before taking another bite and returning his gaze to Yahaba-san. “We usually add just a bit of paprika, gives it a little spice and color.”

“Oh, do you? I’ll have to try that next time! You’ll have to tell me what you think!” Kyoutani nodded sagely, as if it was an important job, taste-tasting his mother’s—

“Hey! Next time?!”

“Shigeru, don’t be rude! It’s only fair, since Kentarou-kun can accurately judge!” She tutted, as if this was all very obvious. Honestly.

“Kyoutani,” he ground out through his teeth, frowning at the would-be-Ace. “That’s not all that happened.” The blond tilted his head back and forth in thought, idly chewing. “I _know_ that can’t be all. What else did I do?” His mother quieted down, realizing what he was getting at.

“You and this cat really got into. You chased the poor thing up a tree,” the blond remarked, spearing another piece of hamburger. “But I dunno, he came at you first. Kinda looked like he was provoking you.” He shrugged again and Shigeru was confused.

“A cat was provoking me?” he echoed. A simple nod. Shigeru took a moment to ponder the thought before shaking it away. They could come back to it later. “Fine, whatever. Were you with me all night?” For whatever reason, Kyoutani didn’t look at him when he nodded this time. Both brunets noticed. “Kyoutani?”

“…yeah. I was.”

Yahaba took a moment. Practice let out close to eight and he really booked it outta there, so he maybe got to the woods eight-thirty? Sure, it was on the way home, but it was the side street leading away from his house. That in mind, it was… five minutes? Ten? Before Kyoutani came along? “What were you even doing out there?” That thought was startling. Had Kyoutani followed him? No, they weren’t really on speaking terms at that point, just casual teammates.

“Live ‘round there. Heard ya, want to check it out. Thought you were one of the neighbor’s dogs again.” Yahaba blinked at the information.

They lived so close, only a few blocks apart, two streets up, give or take.

“Then, after you—“ he could hardly bear to think of it, his cheeks pinkening as the humiliation began to set in again. “—a-and the cat, then?”

Kyoutani’s face was set in a scowl, brows furrowed down deep, eyes narrowed. Yahaba-san slid away from the table, collecting her bowl and plate, picking up her son’s plate as well, leaving the bowl of rice with a pointed look. “Excuse me.” Kyoutani looked up and she smiled warmly. “Don’t mind. It’s just not my place.” She rested a hand on the back of Shigeru’s neck, fingers pulling slightly at the soft curls there. “It’s not my burden to bear.” She pulled her hand away, squeezing his shoulder, before depositing the plates in the kitchen and wandering out into the living room.

Silence reigned in the kitchen, the hum of the TV going moments later, but doing little for the tension.

“Kyou…tani? I didn’t… I didn’t hurt you… did I?” Yahaba’s voice was small and Kyoutani’s eyes shot up, narrowed once more, but lips pursed now in concern. “Right?” it was a whisper and Kyoutani shook his head. But it did nothing for Shigeru’s nerves. “But… something happened…?”

Kyoutani’s jaw tensed and Yahaba swallowed thickly.

“I just kinda—treated you like a dog, a big one, but a dog,” the spiker began, voice a low rumble. Shigeru almost felt insulted, but he supposed given his behavior, that was a good thing. He knew, for a fact, it could have ended much worse for the blond. “You did things my dog would do, fetch, pets, and chasing that cat,” Yahaba almost expected a smile, but Kyoutani’s shoulders hunched closer to his ears. “But that was only the first hour or so, maybe two. You… shifted, after that.”

“Shifted? Into what?” Shigeru broke in, growing horror making its way onto his features once again. He shifted further into a monster?

“Not—not like that,” Kyoutani raised his hands defensively and Yahaba bit his tongue. “Your behavior. Went from a dog to… something smarter. Like a wolf, I guess.” He wanted to interrupt, but hoped the spiker would answer his question despite not voicing it. “You weren’t hopping around all over the place anymore, you got quieter. Like there was a switch that turned something on inside you that…” he paused, letting out a low hum, trying to find the words.

Yahaba could hazard a guess, from what little he remembered on occasions. It wasn’t necessarily true he _never_ remembered, but he didn’t remember enough or near often enough. He leaned back against his chair, chopsticks lying uselessly next to his bowl as he gazed back at Kyoutani, expression blank. “I became a hunter. A killer.” Golden eyes flicked up to his and despite there being no answer to the statement, he knew.

He remembered some nights, especially clear, winterlit nights, he remembered stalking _something_ , steps quiet and the woods around him silent in the snow. Those nights, he remembered awaking in the quiet of the morning, naked and freezing, skin numbing and blue, frost covering his form, but warmth in his stomach and blood smeared across his hands and lips.

“I didn’t kill anything that night,” he remarked quietly, stating fact more than anything. That warmth wasn’t in his stomach like countless times before and he didn’t have to scrub blood from his nails once he finally woke up.

“No. You didn’t.” Kyoutani kept his eyes on the table and Yahaba watched him. “But seeing that shift in you—your eyes went gold, like they did back in the store—“ Oh, was that the cause? Tapping into that darkest part of him? “Honestly, I thought I had a concussion. I didn’t think anything like this was _real_ ,” there was a sad smile on his lips that he hoped Kyoutani understood, “but there you were. I kept my distance after that. It was probably close to four when you—when you shifted back.” Kyoutani’s face scrunched up and Yahaba wondered what he was remembering. Nothing good, if he was there to witness the change back. “You—is it always that painful?”

Yahaba was surprised to see pain in the spiker’s eyes. Pain for him? How kind.

“I usually wake up after it’s all done. An hour or so to sleep off the shock,” Yahaba stated. Kyoutani’s nose scrunched again, hands tightening in his lap.

“Every month?”

“Well, now I understand why the girls are always complaining,” he smiled lightly. Yes, he was _very_ well aware now why it was such a hated period of time. “I suppose the old rumors of girls becoming wolves isn’t too far from the truth,” he tried his hand at humor, only succeeding in causing the bottle blond to go red. “Yeah. I remember turning, but not usually coming back. There’s too much going on, so I go into shock.” He at-least researched that much. “The human body can only take too much and having my bones break and then regrow to accommodate… _everything_ is just past even my high threshold. I’m used to it at this point.”

Kyoutani looked up sharply, familiar rage in his eyes.

He probably would’ve done well with this _gift_ , embracing it and delving deeper into it, able to control it much better than Yahaba probably ever would. Or, perhaps, he would’ve been worse, invoking the beast much more often than the setter ever would, what with his short fuse.

“ _You’re used to it?_ ” Yahaba shrugged and the harsh click of Kyoutani’s jaw made him tilt his head. “You were _bleeding_ , I _heard_ your bones break and regrow, and you’re _used to it_? You pass out from the pain, this time getting a fever in the process, and _you’re **used** to it?_ ”

“Every month, for the past two years. Twenty-one times. Luckily, some are milder than others,” Yahaba recited blankly. “I get used to it. Do you complain about bruises?” Kyoutani’s eyes narrowed to slits, but they both knew the answer. “My tolerance has grown to deal with it, otherwise I probably would’ve died a while ago.” He leaned forward, picking up his forgotten chopsticks and picking at his rice. “Well, sometimes I wonder if that would be better,” he murmured. “Sometimes I think that’d be easier…”

The table slammed against his ribs, Kyoutani’s chair crashing back against the floor. He choked, his own chair screeching back. A shadow stretched across the table, dark and angry, and Yahaba looked up, gazing back into the familiar rage.

“ ** _Shut up.”_**

* * *

 

“Shige-kun!” Hideo lurched forward once he stepped through the entryway, smiling politely and greeting the woman with the same dark rings as her son. “Shige-kun, you made it!” The seven-year-old took his hand, beaming up at him. The other children in the living room blinked at the “adult” the birthday-boy was greeting, before skittering closer.

“Ohh, so you’re Shigeru!” The woman clapped a firm hand on his shoulder and he kept his smile in place. “Hideo won’t stop talking about you! He wants to come to Ken’s volley practice all the time now, says he never did get to see you play like his big brother does! I’m Kyoutani Chiyo, nice to meet you!” He could tell this was Kyoutani’s mother, just by the set of her face and her attitude. He wondered, briefly, how much of his father Kyoutani inherited.  

“Mama!” Hideo whined, tugging on the setter’s hand. “Moooom!”

“Alright, fine! I’ll take that,” the wrapped present was taken from his other hand, Kyoutani-san disappearing into the next room where a pile had accumulated on the table.

“Shige-kun! This way, this way!”

“ _Ken! Your friend’s here!”_

“No! Mama!” Hideo shrieked back, clinging tight to Yahaba’s waist now. “It’s _my_ birthday!” Did Yahaba see tears? But that was hardly something to focus on, when he heard the familiar stomping that heralded the elder son. “ _Mooom!! Daaaad, tell her it’s my birthdaaaay!”_

“Oho, I’m well aware what day it is, Hideo!” The matriarch scowled, nose wrinkling up. “Fourteen hours of labor! I’ll never forget!” Yahaba blushed at the information.

“Mom, not in-front of the kids!” And there came the elder son, red on his own cheeks. He blanked though, upon seeing the setter. “Oh. You’re here.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Why’re you so late? You only live ten minutes away.”

“W-well—“

“You live nearby?!” Yahaba sent the elder a scowl before putting on a pleasant smile for the younger. “Really? You can come over again then, right? Right?”

Kyoutani-san smirked. “See there, Hideo! Play with your other friends, Shigeru can come over whenever!”

The boy nodded obediently, letting go. “Kay!” Yahaba was left in the hallway, watching the boy skid back to his friends, proudly pointing back and introducing him in answer to their questions.

Which left Yahaba with little idea of what he was supposed to do. “Hey.” There was a poke against his shoulder. He tilted his head, quirking a brow. “Backyard, kitchen, or upstairs?” Yahaba glanced to the kitchen where relatives stood around a table filled with food, talking and laughing, then past them to the backyard filled with other adults and some teenagers around the table and scattered along the patio.

“Upstairs?” Kyoutani shrugged, turning on a socked heel and leading the way. Yahaba took another glance towards the children and was confident that he wouldn’t be missed—and followed the elder.

“Warnin’ ya, he’ll probably be up here lookin’ for ya in an hour or whatever, when we start lunch,” Kyoutani shot over his shoulder.

“That’s—fine? I guess? It is his birthday after-all,” he reminded, not that any of them would be forgetting anytime soon with the boy in question and his mother around.

“I guess. Sorry, it’s a lot of our family here, Mom’s gotta couple of brothers and they all got some kids themselves,” Kyoutani stepped around the corner and Shigeru made to follow, reaching the last step and stumbling back in the hallway, blinking up at a raven gazing back at him curiously. The spiker growled low at the sight of the man behind him.

The stranger grinned back at Kyoutani, flashing a peace sign. “Ken-Ken!”

“Sh-shut up! I thought you weren’t coming?” The stranger reached out with a fierce grin, grabbing the grumpy blond and pulling him in close, almost in a headlock. “Oi! Let go! Atsuo!”

“Aw, still such a grumpy pupper, aren’t you, Ken-Ken~?” the raven snickered, rubbing his close cropped hair fast. Kyoutani snarled at him, hands reaching back to mess up the man’s own black hair. “Ah ah, no touchy, bad Ken-Ken!” Kyoutani was released, leaping back to hunch over and snarl at him. “We’re _sure_ Mom and Dad didn’t pick you up from the pound?” The man settled back, grinning widely. Yahaba raised a brow and he seemed to remember he was there. “Oh, you aren’t a cousin. Ken-Ken’s friend?” He tilted his head.

“Hideo invited me.”

“Hideo?” The man frowned. Kyoutani scoffed, stomping past him.

“Oi, Yahaba, here,” he ducked into the room, waving a hand to show _where_ , not that Yahaba needed the kind assistance.

“Oh, rude, Ken-Ken! That’s not how you treat your friends! Honestly!” Yahaba made to follow, but the man stepped in his way. “Hold up, Pretty Boy.” Yahaba sighed at the name. “Ohhh, get that often, huh? So, Hideo invited you, huh? How’d you meet my cute baby brother?”

“Volleyball practice.” The raven looked even more confused and Yahaba slipped past him. “How rude, Mad Dog-chan, just leaving me like that. It’s a wonder I’m still here.”

“Ha. Like your mom wouldn’t march you back if you left early,” Kyoutani smirked at the pout that graced his features next.

“Such a terrible host.”

“Oi, don’t make me call her.”

Yahaba stuck out his tongue. “The fact that you’re already such good friends with my mother is disturbing, Mad Dog-chan.” He glanced around the room, taking in the band and volleyball posters, before sliding onto the desk chair, settling back and shifting his attention to the blond propped on the bed. “It’s a lot cleaner than I thought it’d be.” Kyoutani tilted his chin up, scowling. “Ohh, did you have to clean, Kyoutani~?”

“Soo…” Both looked to the doorway, where the raven was peering in. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Yahaba.” The man kept looking at him pointedly. “Shigeru.”

“Hideo’s new friend,” Kyoutani groused. “Setter at Seijou with me.” The raven leaned against the wall, chin propped on the door frame, still watching them. Kyoutani hummed low in his throat. “Go ask Hideo, he’ll tell you.”

“I might. Maybe not. They met at volleyball practice?” The man seemed curious now, not so suspicious.

“Mom told him to come watch while she shopped. Yahaba kept him company for a bit.”

“Wait,” Yahaba raised a hand and both looked at him. “I’m sorry, forgive me,” he shot a winning smile to the man, who didn’t seem fazed, “Kyoutani, is this your brother?”

The man immediately stumbled, hand clasped over his chest while he looked at Kyoutani with such betrayal. Seijou’s Mad Dog twitched. “Ken-Ken! You didn’t tell him about me!?”

“For obvious reasons!”

“ _Boys! Behave!”_ Kyoutani-san voice floated up the stairs. The eldest Kyoutani was too busy leaning heavily against the opposite wall, continuing to stare at his brother.

“Ken-Ken, I thought we were close!” Kyoutani clicked his tongue. “Gah! The betrayal!”

“Stop your theatrics!”

“ _Atsu-nii!_ ” There was a wild clambering on the stairs and then Hideo skidded into view, lunging for his eldest brother. “You’re here! Come meet—Shige-kun! Atsu-nii, Atsu-nii, this is Shige-kun! He and Ken-nii are best friends!” The child pointed proudly at the fluffy haired brunet, who beamed at the middle Kyoutani.

“Hear that, Mad Dog? We’re best friends~”

“Che, don’t push your luck, Mutt.” But there was a grin on his lips that didn’t do unnoticed by the eldest. “Or I might have to throw you against a wall again.”

The eldest grabbed the youngest, steering him out of the room. “Ahaha, aaaand we’re done here! You two work out your kinks! I’ll be downstairs, once you’re ready to be decent people! Come on, Hideo, let’s go bother Uncle Jiro!”

“N-no! Wait! No, it’s not—Kyoutani! I’m going to strangle you!”

“T-that wasn’t what I meant! Atsuo! Atsuo, get back here, you bastard!”

_“KENTAROU, LANGUAGE!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! School started and I've been kinda drowning in discussion posts!   
> So? So? Whatcha think~?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoutani Chiyo deals with art. The woman who got her started, so many years ago, was Minaro Mayumi-senpai, an artist from Miyagi. Chiyo was hooked ever since and has made a name for herself around the world.
> 
> But Minaro-senpai left the art world and disappeared almost twenty years ago.
> 
> So why, then, was one of her paintings in the hands of her youngest son? As a birthday present?

“Present time!” Kyoutani-san hummed, taking away what was left of the cake while the father of the household (assisted by the eldest) cleared up the table. Kentarou was perched on the couch, Yahaba next to him, and several family members giving them a wide berth.

They were used to this, at this point, but they didn’t know about the stranger who was glowering almost as fiercely as the grumpy blond teenager. Atsuo was snickering though, so he couldn’t be all that bad, but they still kept their distance, greeting their nephew from across the room.

“I wanna open Shige-kun’s!”

“No, you’re opening the present from obaa-san,” was Chiyo’s firm response, ignoring how her youngest whined and placed the brightly covered gift in his hands. “Open the card.” Her son obeyed, put out he couldn’t open his new friend’s first. “Hideo.”

“Thank you, Obaa-san,” was his response, grinning blankly at the elder in the room, waiting for her single nod before he opened the card. The child read it silently, then rose from his chair, shuffling over to hug his mother’s mother before shuffling back, ripping open the paper and dropping it beside his chair. He held up the book for his family and friends to see, a smile on his lips, before his mother placed the next present in his hands.

“From Uncle Jiro,” his mother’s eldest brother smirked triumphantly, wiggling his brows at his younger brothers while they glared back playfully.

“Aha! I’m first! Again~” he cooed, sticking his tongue out. The raven next to him jammed a hand in his ribs and he toppled over, his breath leaving him. “Yo-suke! Not—cool!” he wheezed, gripping tight to his brother’s arm. “I’ll—get you back—for that!”

“Hn, is that right?” The middle son smirked back, nudging up his glasses carefully. Across the room, a brunet snorted. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

“Stop fighting,” Chiyo hissed at them and Yosuke pulled away, the picture of innocence. Jiro scowled up at him, still trying to catch his breath. “Go on, Hideo.” Their cutest nephew beamed back at them before tearing into the box, blinking at the closed cardboard before opening that too, pulling out tissue paper wrapped around something squishy. Jiro looked too proud of himself, so Yosuke nudged him again, the elder only hissing this time.

“A dog!” The stuffed animal grinned back at the seven-year-old. “Ken-nii, it looks just like you!” Hideo held his newest present aloft, grinning widely.

Yahaba snorted loudly, curling away to cover his mouth with a hand, grin wide behind his fingers. The middle Kyoutani son scowled at him before giving a smile to the younger. “You sure about that, kid?”

“It has your stripes!” Hideo insisted, waving the dog around. And yes, it was yellow with two black stripes down his back.

Yahaba rolled in close, his grin sinister. “Hey, hey, Mad Dog-chan, you got stripes~ Are you a zebra then?”

“Shut up, you Mutt!” Kentarou shoved a hand out, knocking the fluffy brunet down into the couch and covering his face with a pillow. “I don’t got stripes!”

The men of the Yagami family watched their normally distant nephew try to smother the non-relative. “Say, Chiyo, who’s the creampuff?” Jiro questioned, waving a hand to get his sister’s attention.

“Hideo’s new friend. He’s in Ken’s volley club. Yahaba Shigeru-kun,” was her simple response, pulling a bag from the table and nudging it closer to her son. “Hideo, this is from Haru-chan,” the girl perked up, taking in a breath. “Hideo.”

“Ken-nii, don’t be mean to Shige-kun!” Hideo threw a wadded up ball of paper at his brother’s head, a frown marring his features. Kentarou pulled away, scoffing as Yahaba sat up easily, a pleasant grin on his lips and hair only mused a bit. Hideo sent a deeper glare at his brother, who returned it easily. 

“Hideo.”

“Thank you, Haru-chan!” the boy sang, pulling out a large box of crayons—over 60 colors. The girl beamed back, the other few children ‘ooh’ing at the gift. Another bag was passed into his hands and the card was pulled out quickly. “Oh, Uncle Yosuke,” the middle son raised a curious brow, glasses nudged up once more. A tiger plush was pulled out and Hideo hugged it tightly, eyes wide. Yosuke looked smugly back at his brother, who growled low in his throat.

“Low blow, Yosuke,” Jiro muttered.

“He likes tigers. I acted accordingly,” Yosuke insisted.

“Open mine next, Hideo!” the younger Yagami son insisted, a book-shaped particle in his hands. Hideo complied and inside was a book on tigers _and_ an encyclopedia of dog breeds.

“Uncle Satoshi!” Hideo cheered. The youngest Yagami grinned back at his brothers, then flew to his sister, ducking behind her at their glares.

“ _Sa—to—shi~”_

“Do-don’t kill me! Chi-nee! Save me!”

“Oi! No fighting in my house!” Chiyo raised a fist, scowling darkly at her brothers, swatting her little brother from behind her. “Man up, Sato-kun!”

While his mother was distracted, Hideo hopped off his chair and pulled the next present form the table. And while everyone else was distracted with the mess that was brewing three feet in-front of them, he tore off the wrapping paper, staring down in wonder at the canvas in his hands. “Shi-shige-kun…”

Yahaba looked away from the brewing fight over to the guest of honor, a brow raised. He saw the canvas and smiled. “Do you like it?” Hideo turned the canvas around, showing the bold and delicate strokes of the brush, a lush jungle painting the background while twin tigers roamed before it. The fight paused, Satoshi held up by the front of his shirt by Chiyo and Yosuke and Jiro both trying to hold her back, rivalry forgotten.

“A painting…?”  

Kentatou side-eyed the setter, golden eyes narrowed. “Didn’t know you could paint, Yahaba.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t. My mother’s a painter, see, and when I mentioned you liked tigers and asked her to make something, she was more than happy to do it. So it’s a present from the both of us, Hideo-kun,” Yahaba informed the boy quietly. “I’ll tell her you liked it.”

“This mark…” Chiyo dropped her brother, striding over to take the painting from her son’s hands. Hideo squawked, but his mother waved him off. “I know this mark.” Brown eyes slid over to the setter, watching him intently. Yahaba blinked, not liking the look of them, but pinned to the couch by them nonetheless. “This is Minaro Mayumi-senpai’s mark.” Her eyes were narrowed to slits and once again, Yahaba wondered what, exactly, their wing spiker got from his father.

Beside him, he heard the middle son groan, a sound that was echoed across the room by the eldest Kyoutani. “Honestly, mother, I know it’s your job, by _why_ do you know that? That mark could honestly mean just about—“

“It’s Minaro Mayumi-senpai’s mark, don’t doubt me,” Chiyo snapped back at her eldest. The man raised his hands in submission, shaking his head. Brown eyes returned to the setter on her couch, suspicious. “Minaro-senpai has been retired for almost twenty years. This painting is recent.” He heard the accusation in her tone, could see it in her eyes too.

“I’m sorry, but, your job is, what, exactly?” Yahaba was curious now.

“Mom travels all around, dealing with art and stuff,” was Kentarou’s eloquent explanation. Yahaba nodded solemnly.

“Ah. I see.”

“Answer me. Why are you using Minaro-senpai’s stamp?” If he was a lesser man, the entirety of a family glaring at him in thinly veiled disgust would break him. But Yahaba was used to dark glares and whispered words behind his back. “I could have you arrested for fraud, boy.”

“Well, its true Mom retired, but she stills paints for fun and some local shows,” Yahaba leaned back on the couch, legs curled up to his knees. “If I knew it’d cause such trouble, I wouldn’t have asked her to paint it.” Hideo keened at the thought and Yahaba shot him an apologetic smile. “If you don’t want it, I can—“

“No! I want it! Mom!” Hideo reached for the canvas, but Chiyo wasn’t giving in that easily.

“Your mother painted this? Minaro-senpai _painted_ this?”

Yahaba really didn’t want to do this. But he was left with no choice.

* * *

 

“Ah! I’m here! I’m here!” His mother rested a hand against her side, breathing in deeply. “What’s wrong? What’s the emergency? Shigeru?” Dozens of eyes gazed back at her, her son seated calmly on the couch. “Eh? What’s going on? Shigeru? Kentarou-kun? You said it was an emergency?” She took in slow, deep breaths, both hands now on her sides. “If you made me _run_ the entire way here, Shigeru, I swear you will not be getting off scot-free, you little menace,” was her low warning. Her son smiled wobbly, hands thrown up in surrender. “Oh, you must be Hideo-kun! Happy birthday!” she smiled brightly at the child, who immediately scrambled to hold up the tiger painting. “Oh! Do you like it? I think I rushed a little, but it turned out pretty good, huh?”

“I like it!” The child beamed back at her.

“Mi-minaro-senpai,” a reverent voice whispered.

“Huh?” A sturdy woman stared at her, hands curled to her chest and fingers trembling. “Ah, sorry, it’s been awhile since I’ve heard that! Sorry, did we go to school?” Yahaba Mayumi straightened up, immediately striding close to take the woman’s hands. “You must be Chiyo-san! It’s very nice to meet you! I’m Yahaba Mayumi; I hope Shigeru wasn’t causing any trouble?” Brown eyes immediately narrowed on her son and the teenager shook his head quickly, Kentarou poking him smugly. Her son turned to scowl at him, swatting his hand away. “So, you called because…?”

“Kyoutani-san works with art,” Shigeru offered.

“Oh, well, that’s very generous of you, but really, I haven’t painted in years! And I’m a nurse now!” Mayumi smiled brightly, dropping the woman’s hands. Chiyo squeaked. “Well! I’m glad you like it, Hideo-kun!” The boy nodded furiously. “This was nice,” she drawled, brown eyes flicking to her son. “Sorry to barge in! I’ll be going then!” She shuffled towards the door, waving cheerfully. “Shigeru~!” Her son flinched. “I’ll see you in an hour!” was her warning.

“R-right…”

“Bye-bye~!” The door clicked closed and Chiyo squeaked again, cheeks red and form wobbling. Her husband, a tall man with golden eyes—ahh, that’s what Kentarou got—hurried forward, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her away with a cheery call to continue with the presents.

“Um…” Atsuo nearly dived onto the couch, curled against Yahaba’s other side, leaning in close, deep brown eyes questioning. “Ah, was that necessary? Why, exactly, did I have to call my mom to come and—“

“Mom wasn’t into art until she went to a gallery that featured some of Minaro-san’s paintings. From then on,” Atsuo began, drawing back to lean against the couch calmly, “She’s been super into art. Travels all over the world, assisting with galleries and museums, even being called to judge. If mom’s at a gallery opening, it’s a big deal. So, when your mom retired, Mom was crushed. Minaro-san fell off the map and Mom tried finding some of her paintings, but nothing ever panned out.”

On his other side, Kyoutani huffed. “She’s going to be trouble now,” was his mutter.

“Didn’t you say you lived nearby, Creampuff-chan?” Atsuo looked back at the setter curiously. Both teens shivered, Yahaba going ridged and Kentarou getting agitated.

“Please don’t call me that. And yeah, a few blocks up.”

Atsuo nodded sagely. “Ken-ken.” The middle son glanced at him. “Mom cannot, under no circumstances, be allowed to know where Minaro-san lives. Under no circumstances, or so help me I will—“

“Ya-yahaba-kun,” Chiyo appeared in the doorway, the rest of the family having returned to their own conversations and watching Hideo open his presents, cheering and smiling with the kids. “Would you and your parents join us for dinner tomorrow night?!” She was essentially ignored by all but the three on the couch and her husband.

Atsuo threw his head back, growling low in his throat, while Kentarou dropped his head forward into his hands. Yahaba, left in the middle, offered a strained smile. “Well, Mom works tomorrow night, so, that wouldn’t really—“

“What about Monday? You don’t have practice on Mondays!”

“Sorry, but she has night shift, so she—“

“Tuesday!?”

“Well, that’s morning shift, so she’d be sleeping until—“

“Then Wednesday!”

Yahaba looked to the Kyoutanis he was currently surrounded by, but their eyes both screamed absolute murder, should he agree with their mother. “I… I’ll have to get back to you, Kyoutani-san… Her schedule’s pretty busy, after-all…”

“Yes, yes, a nurse works a lot, but she has free days, doesn’t she?”

Yahaba looked down at his fingers, scraping lightly at his nails. “…she does.”

“What days, usually?”

“W-well…” He glanced back up at the older woman, who had been steadily inching closer and closer. Brown eyes flicked to the elder sons, who were watching curiously. Yahaba looked back down, smiling lightly. “She works at two hospitals, so what free days she has means she’s working at the other or has a double shift. She was lucky she happened to have Thursday off and then single shifts to work on Hideo’s painting.” Chiyo’s eyes went to the canvas proper carefully against the wall, then back to Yahaba. “So, I’ll have to get back to you on dinner.”

“Two jobs? That’s too much! Minaro-senpai could easily devote her life to painting and make more than enough! Two jobs?”

Yahaba’s lips thinned, fingers curling sharply into his palms. Tightening his grip, he shot the Kyoutani matriarch a winning smile. “I know, right? But mom loves being a nurse, so I do what I can around the house to make things easier for her! I’ll see what her schedule looks like and we can set up dinner then, okay?”

Chiyo nodded enthusiastically. “You talk to Ken, we’ll get it all set-up! I look forward to meeting with your mother again, Yahaba-kun!” She returned to her spot by Hideo, passing his presents and making sure he thanked the giver, a smile playing on her lips.

Yahaba’s smile fell, brows furrowed deep as he felt the sting in his palm.

“Yahaba.” He refused to look up. “You don’t have to. Pretend it never happened.” Kentarou’s voice was low, most likely so his mother wouldn’t overheard. But Yahaba just hummed low. “Seriously.”

“Listen to Ken, Yahaba,” Atsuo mused from his other side. “You don’t look happy at-all, so just pretend it never happened. Mom’ll understand—two jobs and all.” Brown eyes slid over to the setter, his face oddly relaxed. “Yeah?”

“That’d be rude.”

“She threatened to have you arrested because she thought you were lying about who painted it,” Atsuo remarked. “Your mom got her into art, so she’ll always have that admiration for her, but don’t force yourself, yeah?” Nimble fingers plucked up his hand, uncurling his fingers and tutting down at the reddening crescents on his palm. “Honestly.”

* * *

“ _What did you do_?” Yahaba quickly backed away into a locker, blinking down at the faux blond suddenly crowding his space. “We _told_ you not to!”

“What’re you talking about?” The brunet held at his practice jersey, at a total loss as to what was going on. Kyoutani scowled, poking hard at his chest.

“We _told_ you to just ignore her, Mutt!” From across the room, Oikawa rose, a smile in place as he stalked towards them, Iwaizumi flanking him. “ _Not agree to dinner!”_

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up! I didn’t call her!” Yahaba nudged him back, arms crossed as he glared. “I told you, didn’t I? Mom’s busy so we can’t anyway!”

“Then why was she—Damn it. She called your mom.” Kyountai pulled back, flopping down on the bench and glowering down at the tiled floor. “Fantastic.”

Yahaba closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the ceiling. “When.”

“Thursday. 7.”

Yahaba opened his eyes, sighing slowly. Oikawa and Iwaizumi now stood before them, unamused looks on their faces. Yahaba gave a tired smile. “Oikawa-san, it seems I have a dinner party to attend. I’d like to request to leave early on Thursday. Ah, Kyoutani too.” Kyoutani seemed to sink a little lower.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” Oikawa began pleasantly. “You and Mad Dog-chan aren’t fighting?”

“Oh no. Quite the contrary, Oikawa-san,” Yahaba smiled. “I’m having dinner at his house Thursday. Is that alright?”

Across the room from them, Hanamaki cursed softly and handed over 600 yen to Matsukawa, who grinned wide at his partner, tucking it away in his back. “I win this round, Makki. Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's been awhile. Whoops.  
> Sorry about that. I feel really bad actually... Um, I have a somewhat writing intensive course load this semester, so I've been working on schoolwork, not my own stuff. But! Good news! I'm essentially done with one of those writing classes, two others are just lecture that I don't need to prepare anything for, and of the two other writing classes I have, one is mostly done and the other will be the only thing I'll have to worry about~  
> So that means I'll have some more time to work on things!  
> Hopefully
> 
> Ahh, that said, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yahaba has never met his father.
> 
> Kyoutani meets him while out shopping.
> 
> It does not go well.

“So~! How was dinner?” Oikawa inched closer to where Kyoutani was waiting to start his serve. Across the net, Watari was paused, discussing something with Kindaichi. “Hmmm?”

“Fuck off.” The blond was focused, stepping forward and jumping the moment their libero gave him the go ahead. Oikawa startled back, hand over his chest dramatically.

“Why, I _never!_ Mad Dog-chan! How rude!”

“What he means to say, Oikawa-san,” Yahaba smiled pleasantly next to him and Oikawa blinked, wondering when the brunet got there. “Is that we’d prefer if you never brought it again. Ever.” Another bright smile and then Yahaba was moving forward as he threw up the ball, brown eyes focused as he took the short run up, form nearly perfect as his body snapped, sending it over the net. Watari dived, receiving it cleanly and rolling to his feet, giving a thumbs up. “Any other questions?”

Oikawa managed a smile of his own, form straight, as he brought up a hand to give the second-year a salute. “None, Yahaba-chan.”

Yahaba nodded, stepping away as Hanamaki made his way closer. “Nice serve, Mutt.” Yahaba’s eyes flashed at the voice, lips curling up as his eyes glittered.

“Same to you, Mad Dog.” If Yahaba’s rather predatory smile hadn’t scared him, the feral grin on Kyoutani’s face did.

But the most terrifying part of it all was that they were both perfectly sincere.

“I-Iwa-chan, I’m _scared_ , they’re getting along so well!”

“That’s the point of team bonding, Crappykawa!”

* * *

 

“Yahaba.” He turned, a smile in place as he looked at the unfamiliar voice calling out to him. A delinquent stood a ways behind him, phone raised to his ear as he glowered down at the concrete, golden eyes narrowed. “Station.” He watched the teen huff out a breath, shoulders tipping as he tilted his face up. “Shopping, what do you think?” He watched calmly, wondering just _who_ the boy was talking to. “What do you _mean_ , my mother is at your house? Did Hideo corner you again?” The boy snorted. “Pathetic, Mutt,” was his careful drawl. “Nah, I just think it’s funny—what do you _mean_ Minaro-san invited them to dinner?!”

Well. This was all highly coincidental and he was not comfortable with how this was proceeding. At all.

The boy looked up, eyes flashing around before locking onto his. He gazed back, dark brown stuck on gold, before the boy scoffed, tearing his eyes away and finding the clock. “I dunno, should be here soon—I don’t know, maybe ten? M-mom… Yes… Yeah… _yeah_ , I’ll be there soon—I just said—no, sorry…” The teen had drawn his shoulders in close and the angry woman’s voice floating from the phone alerted him that the boy was being lectured. “Yes, Mom. Yeah. Yes, I’ll tell Minaro-san how much I—Mom, are you forcing her to—No, I’m just—Just put Yahaba back on already!”

He seated himself on a nearby bench, continuing to watch the boy fidget.

“I swear to god, when I get there, Mutt, I am going to _strangle_ you,” were his next hissed words, filled with every intention of carrying it out. “I can take you, you creampuff. Fuck off, I know it’s still a week away. Oh, yeah, because looking up when the next full moon is is really fucking hard.”

He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the telltale shiver as the boy felt his gaze, felt the intent.

But the boy merely slanted his eyes, scowling out at the tracks, jaw tense. “Is Minaro-san—Why would I do that? Yeah, and Hideo’s _seven_. I don’t—Mi-Minaro—No, Ma’am, I just—Th-then Yaha—S-sure… Mayumi-san… Could, could you put… Yes, I know, May-Mayumi-san…” The teen’s free hand twitched at his side. “ _Yahaba, I’m going to fucking murder you when I get there._ No, I don’t want—Oi! Fine, but I want chicken!” He snapped his phone shut, shoving it in his pocket and scowling harder, golden eyes slitted and intense, the bags at his feet scooped up in his hands as the train roared into the station. A moment and his gaze swung around, glowering back at him. “What’re you looking at?” the boy growled.

He smiled faintly. “Trouble, son?”

“Stay out of my business,” the doors slid open and the boy stomped in, he slowly rising and following, settling himself against the window and watching as the boy stood, leg jerking impatiently as he held to the strap above his head. “ _Stupid fucking Mutt, I’m gonna wring his neck—_ “ the woman seated a few seats down from the boy edged a little further away, blue eyes wide as she watched him. Most likely fearing he’d start throwing things.

Interesting.

* * *

Kyoutani wasn’t an idiot.

Impulsive, yes. Bad tempered, sure. Anger driven, probably. But not stupid.

“The _fuck_ do you want, Old Man?” He knew when he was being followed. He glared over his shoulder, the same guy from the train station standing a few feet back. The man held his hands up.

“Just out for a stroll—“

“Cut the crap. Whaddya want?” The man’s hands dropped and Kyoutani turned, head tilted as he narrowed her eyes. “ _Well_?”

“Nothing really. You just seem very… angry.” Kyoutani let the tension in his shoulders drop, hoping his expression accurately conveyed “what the fuck.” The man shrugged. “Well, perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m—“

“I don’t care. Leave me alone or I’ll break your nose.” The man blinked, looking very taken aback, and Kyoutani started forward, steps just a little quicker.

Yes, he could be driven by his anger, but he was not a violent person. Aloof, sure, and very much a loner, but not the delinquent everyone thought he was.

“You know my son.”

“Haah?” He stopped, glaring back at the man now only a few steps behind him. He jerked back. “Oi—“

“What’s he like?” The stranger’s eyes were intense, like he was staring into Kyoutani’s soul. He didn’t like it much.

“Back off, man,” the stranger reached out, grip tight around the blond’s arm. “Let go of me.”

“I’m Yahaba Wataru.”

Kyoutani saw red.

* * *

“Oh, Ken-kun you’re here—Oh my gosh!” Chiyo looked up from where she was calmly stirring the stew, leaning away from the stove to see Mayumi fretting in the front hall. “Are you okay? Are you injured? Your hand! What happened?! Shigeru! Shigeru, get the first aid kit!” Shigeru obeyed, slipping into the kitchen and opening one of the bottom cabinets. Hideo wandered away from the table in the living room, peeking around Mayumi.

“Ken-nii, is that _blood_?” Chiyo paused. “Ken-nii, did you fall? Did you get a bloody nose? Mama, Ken-nii’s bleeding!”

“I’m fine,” was her middle son’s growl. Chiyo tutted down at the stew, brown eyes flicking over to where Shigeru was frozen, still kneeling in front of the cabinet. He was oddly pale, his eyes just a little too wide as he stared into the cabinet.  

“Best go patch him up, Shigeru-kun,” she spoke softly, shaking the boy from his stupor. He nodded, rising and slipping back out of the kitchen, padding towards the hall just as his mother pushed him aside, pulling the blond into the living room, shoving him down on the couch. Hideo hopped around them, trying to figure out what happened.

“Shigeru,” Mayumi waved a hand and Shigeru stepped closer, reaching out with hesitant hands, handing over the kit. “Go on,” she set the kit down, waving a hand back at her son. Shigeru fled, his steps thundering on the stairs. Chiyo watched as her elder opened the kit, settling on the floor in front of her son. She saw the blood on his shirt and his bruised knuckles. She narrowed her eyes and he looked down.

“ _Kentarou, what did you do_.”

Mayumi straightened up, cotton ball in hand as she swiped across the teen’s hand. He hissed, jerking, but Mayumi held on. “I’m sorry it stings, but I need to make sure it’s all clean before I wrap up your hand. Did you at-least break something?”

“His nose.”

“Well, I can’t say I approve, but you had a reason?” Chiyo watched her son’s eyes narrowed, furious in his rage, as he nodded hard. “All right. Violence isn’t the answer, you know?”

“I’m sorry.” Mayumi hummed in acceptance and Chiyo blinked before she sucked down a quick breath, her admiration for the painter skyrocketing. “It won’t happen again.”

“You can’t promise that, Ken-kun. But thank you. Excuse Shigeru, he doesn’t deal well with blood.” The blond hummed low. “Which is odd, I know, given what I do.” Mayumi shrugged a little, a smile on her lips, before pulling away and reaching for bandages. “Now, I’ll just put this cream on and wrap up your hand, hmm? I assume I don’t have to tell you no practice?”

“Yes, Mayumi-san.”

“Good! Let’s see… Pop over in a few days after practice and I’ll check it out, okay? I’ll let Shigeru know what night I’ll be home and you can just walk over with him. There we go, not too tight?” Kentarou flexed his fingers, the tape tight. “Best go up and see Shigeru. Chiyo-chan, how’s the stew!” Chiyo fluttered nearby as her esteemed senpai took a small sip from the spoon. “Mmmm, it’s coming along great!” Chiyo blushed at the praise, Hideo hopping over.

“I wanna try! I wanna try!” Mayumi hefted him up, groaning at his weight, before shifting him to her hip, holding out the spoon. “I wanna eat!”

“Not yet, okay? It’s not done yet!”

* * *

“Mutt.”

“Mad Dog.” Kyoutani nudged the door closed behind him and Yahaba’s nose twitched at the metallic scent. “So you got in a fight.”

“Wasn’t much of a fight. Probably broke his nose, but I booked it outta there after that. Didn’t wanna deal with him.”

“Sucker punch, huh? How unlike you,” Yahaba sat a little straighter on his bed, eyeing the spots of red on his wing spiker’s shirt. His nose twitched again, lips curling in disgust. “I’ll grab you a shirt.” It was better than smelling blood the rest of the night. He didn’t need the reminder, thank you very much.

“Thanks.” Rustling fabric registered in his ears as he opened a drawer, pulling out a simple gray t-shirt. Yahaba turned out, hand extended, and paused. The shirt was pulled from his grasp.

Up to this point in his life, Yahaba had been pretty straight forward. He was fine growing up—more or less—and hit his second year of junior high with no issue. At which point, he was introduced to the concept of girls outside of just classmates. The second year of junior high brought about his first confession letter and meeting. He liked Misa-chan, just not like that.

Third year brought a few more confessions and his first girlfriend. It also brought his first shift. It was a lot to deal with, with exams coming up, volleyball, and his decision for high school.

Yahaba had been in changing rooms with his teammates for years, seeing a guy shirtless wasn’t anything new.

This should be one of those instances, but it was different. Why? Because they weren’t in the gym? That shouldn’t make a difference, should it?

But well, he never really paid attention to his teammates, as was expected. And perhaps it was this change in venue that forced the attention. With his room as a backdrop, Yahaba stared as Kyoutani’s toned stomach disappeared beneath his t-shirt.

“I met your dad.” Yahaba’s eyes flicked up, brows furrowing in confusion as Kyoutani sat on the edge of his bed. Golden eyes were focused on the smooth hardwood on his floor. “Pretty sure I broke his nose, too.”

And now was not time for an existential crisis, apparently.

“You did what?”

* * *

“Oikawa-san,” Yahaba hissed in his phone, huddled against the door to the bathroom. He manged to excuse himself, distracting his mother with Chiyo-san and patting Hideo’s head as he went, phone clutched tight in whitened knuckles.

“ _Ohh? What a surprise! Yahaba—“_

 _“_ Oikawa-san, I think I might be gay.”

“ _Ah? Yahaba-chan, are you okay?”_

“ _No,_ I am _not_ okay! Kyoutani’s over for dinner—“

“ _Wow, you sure do work fast~!”_

 _“_ Not like _that_ , but he got in a fight—“

“ _He did what!?”_

 _“_ —Not now! So I loaned him and shirt and oh god, I’m gay, aren’t I?”

“ _Okay, wow, well, I’ll ignore that bit, but I’m coming back to it later! So you loaned him a shirt?”_ Shigeru scrubbed at his head, curling a little tighter against the sink. “ _And, you just thought… what, exactly?”_

“Those abs…”

“ _Ah, well, he’s not quite as fit as Iwa-chan, but I suppose he does well. You could be bi. Or pan. Ooh! I could help you research! Yahaba-chan, let’s bond over figuring out your—“_

“Good-bye, Oikawa-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Four months later.  
> Fun fact: Oikawa and Yahaba's "talk" was about the same one me and my friend had when i figured out i was bi. I wasn't panicking quite as much and my friend's bi so she wasn't too thrown (she had already guessed), but, essentially, i was Yahaba and she was more than happy to help me with research. 
> 
> Now, you MAY think I jumped into Yahaba's crisis too soon, but! I have my reasons. One of which was stated in the chapter. You may also think "Ah. She doesn't know what to do and she wants to move the plot along. It doesn't work. It's too abrupt." And you may have a point, but, again, I have my reasons and it is somewhat critical to deal with this. (Also, I honestly didn't figure out my preferences until I was faced with the fact that 'oh my god, that girl is so pretty, what do you mean ask her out, i can't ask her out!' so saying that him suddenly realizing he is attracted to some men is ridiculous, that's bullshit and fun fact, that's usually how people figure out they're bi)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I do apologize for the late update!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come bother me on tumblr! Same name as here~


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